


Sarge is a Sassy Little Bastard

by a_xmasmurder



Series: Kittens in a Warzone [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A gift to you, Biting, Blowjobs, Boys Will Be Boys, Dirty Talk, Glorification of war, He's feeling useless, M/M, Military Kink, Military wank, PWP, Pure Porn, Rough Sex, Someone's got a bit of a kink, War kink, and John's feeling a bit down, and Kittens, for my LWM, slight D/s overtones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarge is a sassy little bastard, and John and Scott need to get laid. Bad. So they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sarge is a Sassy Little Bastard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lestradesexwife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/gifts).



> PURE FUCKING PORN. OC WANK. I DON'T CARE. TAGGED. MALE/MALE. If it isn't your thing, you are on the WRONG PAGE.
> 
> Glorification of war. I make NO EXCUSES, and NO APOLOGIES.
> 
> Rough sex is rough.
> 
> Kittens will be kittens.
> 
> This is for Lestradesexwife because I left her hanging with "Kittens" and she wanted porn. Also...I'm getting porn from her. So. ENJOY :D

Watson stormed into his quarters, slamming the door behind him. Four miniature blurs going in about ten different directions barely made his lips twitch into a half arsed smirk, but at least it was there.

At least he was feeling something.

He yanked the stethoscope off his neck and threw it somewhere in the direction of his file cabinet and collapsed face first on the bed and screamed into the flat padding. “I fucking HATE THIS POSTING! I FUCKING _HATE IT_!” He debated the wisdom of trying to suffocate himself with one of his pillows, then thought about grabbing the stethoscope and hanging himself with it.

“Problem one, not long enough. Two, nothing to tie it to. Three, one actually needs motivation to strangle themselves,” he muttered into the scratchy dun coloured blanket. “Fuck, I hate this fucking place, I want to go back to my squad, this is _shit_ \- and who is kneading my shoulder?”

“Myeah.”

“Hello, Sarge.” Watson sighed and swallowed his self-indulgent woe-is-me sentences as they formed in his throat, and let the orange kitten push his really rather sharp claws into the hard muscles of his back. Sarge really couldn’t weigh more than a pound, so he couldn’t put too much oomph into the repetitive motions, but it still served to calm the captain down enough to where he didn’t want to gut himself with his knife so much anymore. He turned over slowly, letting the little cat walk over his rib cage and onto his chest.

“You know what, Sarge?” He folded one arm behind his head and ran the fingers of his free hand through Sarge’s soft fur. “The worst part of it is? It’s that there’s nothing really going on, other than I.E.D victims and crashes and fucking idiots shooting themselves in the foot or getting STDs or fuckin’ spraining their wrists because they figured doing parkour off the fucking sides of the buildings would be a fun way to pass the time even though half these fuckin’ shacks are made out of corrugated fucking steel sheets and not much else.”

“Myyeeeeeah mreow?” And yes, there was a damned _inflection_ in the kitten’s response, damn it. Watson was not having a one way conversation with a fucking cat that didn’t understand English. He wasn’t.

“Oh, and someone decided to piss off a billy goat today.” He sighed. “Really? Fucking _really_?” He patted Sarge on the head as he settled down on his chest. “Sometimes, I really wonder about the collective I.Q. of the British Army.”

“Myeaaaaah.”

“You understand.”

Sarge started licking his little paw and purr-meowed an assent.

“I’m talking to a cat.”

The door creaked open a little bit, and a deep voice carried through the crack. “Oi. Can I come in?”

Watson didn’t even bother raising his head. “Yeah, go ahead, Scott.”

The door opened a bit more, then slid shut again. He could smell the desert, he could smell gun oil and cordite and _fuckin’ hell,_ he missed these smells. He missed the smell of a battle.

Nowadays, all he could smell was the blood that came afterwards.

“Bad day?”

Sarge answered for him. “Mreow.”

McIntyre’s heavy rucksack hit the floor. “I wasn’t asking you, furball.”

Sarge’s only response for that was a half-hearted growly meow, and Watson couldn’t help himself. He started giggling.

“What?” The bed dipped as Scott sat down next to him. The smells sharpened and spread until they were filling his sinuses and his brain and fuck if he wasn’t starting to harden in his pants.

“You are talking to him, and he’s actually responding to you.”

“Yeah, I’m talking to an adorable kitten. I may have to punch a wall or wrestle a fucking gorilla to feel manly again.”

Watson finally looked at McIntyre, and relished the sight of his dirty, dusty, tanned face. When Scott smiled at him, the deep creases of his crow’s feet (such a travesty, they were in their early thirties and already have the wrinkles of old men) stood out. He just wanted to take that face into his hands and inhale. Inhale and _live again_.

“John?”

Sarge squawked out an indignant yowl as John surged up and captured Scott in a heated kiss, his lips locking over the other man’s in a desperate attempt to taste the war he was missing so much. He gripped Scott’s burnished skin and caged his hands over his ears and fuckin’ took. Scott’s mouth opened eagerly and John licked roughly at his lips, tracing the salty-bitter tang of sweat and sunshine and sand and gunpowder and fucking _sex, damn it_! His fingers strayed up to the almost past regulation length brown hair and gripped there, dragging a broken moan out of his Marine friend, who responded by biting at John’s swollen lips, spiking little pinpoints of pain through his already begging brain.

They finally parted on a gasp of desire, and John looked up into Scott’s emerald eyes, now blown darker and glinting bright and dangerous. “I fuckin’ _want_ you, Scott. Right now.”

Scott’s breathing ratcheted up a notch, and now he panted hard into John’s face. “You can have me, damn it, John, you lunatic fucker. Let me - “ He batted the doctor’s hands away and pushed off the bed, pawing at his belt buckle. “Get this off, get your fuckin’ kit _off_ , you son of a bitch.”

“Boots.” John pointed out helpfully as he yanked his BDU shirt open and off, and set to work on his own belt.

Scott frowned, then hissed in dismay as his trousers dropped over his boots. “Damn it!” He pulled them back up and held on with one hand as his other made quick work of the laces.

John already had most of his clothing off, including his boots, and he just couldn’t fucking WAIT to see what getting fucked by a man that smelled like war was going to be like. He surged off the bed and dropped to his knees in front of a struggling Scott and bit into the thick cord of muscle on his hip. The strangled moan and aborted hip jerk made John smile, oh, did it make him smile. It made him grin like a man possessed, and he pressed his tongue to the mark he left there, and dragged his hands up over the outsides of Scott’s thighs, gripped the material of the camo trousers, and pulled them down, revealing the military issue pants and - _oh_! His mouth started to water as he stared at the very obvious outline of a generous prick lying along Scott’s hip, straining at the olive material. There was a small damp spot spreading just at the tip of the head, and John bend forward to dab his tongue at the spot.

“Oh shit, Jesus _fuckin_ ’ Christ, John, fuckin - _God_!” Scott stood ramrod straight and trembled, holding the smaller man by his undershirt at the shoulder, his hand alternately gripping so tightly his knuckles whitened and stroking gently, so gently at the fabric. John didn’t want that. He didn’t want gentle. He wanted to fucking _feel_. He grunted and nuzzled at the cock in front of his face, and let go of the trousers to pinch the waistband of the pants with fingers shaking with the need to touch everywhere and pulled those down too, and - holy Mary. Scott’s prick swung out, heavy and flushed with arousal, and John bent in, past that tantalizing treat, and fucking _scented_ his friend. He breathed in that earthy musk, that cordite / gun oil / MAN / sex / war scent and shook. He shook, honest to God fucking quaked. He didn’t care that he was about to go down on the husband of one of his ex-girlfriends and a good friend to boot - he didn’t fucking _care_ \- he stuck his tongue out and licked up his inner thigh, delighting in the shocked gasp above him, and the tight grip on his shoulder now, so tight, so good - He sank his teeth in, just enough to get a high pitched “Oh, fucking God _damn it_ , Watson, John _fucking_ hell -”, and turned his face to lick up the side of the soft flesh of Scott’s testicles. Oh, what a taste, what a heady scent and taste and shit - he couldn’t fucking wait any longer. He reached up with both hands, one going to the base of quite possibly the best fucking cock he’d ever seen (and he was a doctor, damn it, he’s seen penis before, lots of them) and the other grabbing the hand digging into his shoulder. He leaned back, just a bit, just enough to look up and Jesus, didn’t Scott look good like this, flushed and panting and fuckin’ _gasping_ for it - and wrapped his surgeon’s hand - fingers light and quick, yes, like that - around that brilliant thing and gave a couple gentle strokes, rubbing his thumb over the head of Scott’s prick and through the beads of precome that gathered there like dew on a flower - Oh, he couldn’t _wait,_ he had to taste, he dragged the tip of his tongue over the slit and it was like a bolt of lightning hit Scott. His hips jerked and he whined, his deep voice dragged out of his chest and forced through his wet mouth and John shook. He shook with pleasure, and his own cock throbbed to the beat of his trip-hammering heart. He blinked up at Scott, his tongue still resting just underneath the head, and squeezed Scott’s trembling hand once, twice. Scott opened his eyes and looked down at him.

“Oh God. I’ve - I’ve thought about this, I have.” His voice reached depths John had never heard before. “You, kneeling in front of me, looking up at me like that, fuck, this is better than any wet motherfucking dream I’ve ever had.” He pulled his hand away and stroked his fingers through John’s longish hair. “So many dreams.” Gentle, again, too fucking gentle!

John narrowed his eyes and grabbed Scott’s hand once more, this time forcing the hand into a fist and making him grip his sun-bleached blonde hair. He hoped Scott would get the point. God knows Sue’s told him stories about what Scott and she would do behind closed doors. He wanted to be that for Scott.

Scott’s eyes turned even darker, if it was possible. “Oh my fucking God. John. Really?” His voice was shaking as bad as his body now. John nodded, and tried to remember how to do this the right way, not the quick blowjobs out in the desert but an honest to God good one. He could feel his mouth filling with saliva, and he just...

“Yes. really.” He looked back down, down to this cock in front of him, this dazzling, beautiful, massive prick, and flicked his eyes back up. “Fuckin’ give it to me.” He licked messily at Scott’s shaft, dragging as much wetness as he could up the length, and Scott moaned, letting go of John’s hair - _no, please, not want I want_ \- only to grip harder and push down as he moved his hips forward. John opened his mouth and closed his eyes when he felt the head slip past his lips, his teeth, and bump up against his palate, then slide past and it was his turn to moan as it reached the back of his throat. There was a moment where Scott hesitated, he really did - so John pushed his own head down and swallowed, and that was that. There was just so much, and John nearly gagged as Scott pushed in further, but he moved his tongue and then it was better, easier, and he could feel a strand of saliva roll down his chin - _god, this is perfect_ \- and he let Scott hold him there, nose pressed up against his groin and oh, the scent of him! Intoxicating was too weak of a word for it. John’s cock strained hard against his pants - _shit, i still have pants on_? - and he had to breathe, his throat hitching and trying to take in air. Then Scott was pulling his head back, enough so he could breathe, and it was perfect. John trembled; he was kneeling in a position that put strain on his thighs and back, and he was trembling and still had his shirt and his pants on, and this was perfect and exactly what he wanted, what he _needed_. He looked back up at his best friend; a signal if there ever was one, as Scott pushed him back down onto his prick and whispered something he couldn’t quite hear. Then he repeated it, a bit louder, but still as though he didn’t really want John to hear it...

“Fuckin’ take it, you pretty slut.”

John’s whole body jerked as a spike of pleasure jolted through it. _Wow. Did not know that about myself._ He moaned around the thickness in his mouth and halfway down his throat and oh, the sounds Scott was making right now couldn’t be fuckin’ legal. If anything, the full throated groan and growl made John even fucking harder. The hand left the back of his head, and John took that as an invitation to get to work. He raised one hand to the base of Scott’s cock and gripped tightly as he pulled off and grinned up at his friend.

“I’m gonna make you scream, Scott.” Oh, his voice was ruined, he sounded so fuckin’ wrecked! The grin grew on Scott’s face too, and John glanced down to spit on the head of the throbbing prick in his hands. “You say I’m a slut, yeah? I’m gonna suck you ‘til you fucking scream, and then I’m going to fuck you into the floorboards.” Scott gave a full body jerk, and John knew. He just knew that Scott was just like him, apparently. “You like that?” He bent down and lapped wetly at the head, spreading saliva and no small amount of precome around. “Gonna make you _beg_ for it.”

“Oh, God yes.” Scott could barely speak. “ _God yes_.”

John took him back into his mouth and sucked him, alternating between long, slow pushes down his throat and light, swirly flicks of his tongue around the glans that had Scott whimpering and moaning, his hands clenching and releasing on John’s muscled shoulders.

“Oh, that’s good, that’s fuckin’ golden, John, don’t fuckin’ stop, fuck, ohhhh....” Scott moaned and suddenly dropped to his knees, with no warning. John had to pull back quickly to avoid catching his teeth on anything important - and Scott’s mouth was suddenly on his, eager tongue pushing past swollen lips to lick at his teeth, his palate, his own tongue. “I can fuckin’ _taste_ myself on you, you fuckin’ beautiful God damned person, you fuckin’ debauched fuckin’ Army boy, _G_ _od_ you can suck cock!” More licking, biting at lips and stroking hands, one gripping in John’s hair again. “You have a special crazy, the kind that get you _notes_ in your file and worshippers and fuckin’ make you Level 99 legendary and fuck I want your fuckin’ cock in my arse _yesterday_ do you understand? Lie the fuck down, I’m fucking riding you right the fuck here, you son of a bitch...” Scott trailed off as he pushed John down onto his back on the hard floor and hissed at the sight before him. “Oh, Jesus, John, your cock, it’s brilliant, fuckin’ beautiful, I love it, take your god damned pants off!” He hooked his fingers in John’s underwear and lifts them away in the front to let John’s engorged prick spring up along his twitching abdominals, then pulled them down and away, tossing them somewhere near his pack. “Let me look at you, you gorgeous fucking Army boy.” He breathed in and leaned up to lick his way into John’s mouth once more. He lay down carefully on top of John, aligning their bodies so that their hips came together and -

“Oh, fuck!” John groaned in sheer pleasure as Scott’s prick lay against his, the soft skinned hardness suddenly the center of his fucking world, despite only being one more point of contact in a sea of skin and fingers and tongues and kisses and fuckin’ TEETH as Scott bit down on his collarbone and then sucked hard as he rolled his hips hard against him and _Jesus fucking Christ no more thinking!_ His hand flew to Scott’s hips and gripped tight, tight enough to bruise and he bucked up, sliding his slick glans along spit-damp skin...oh _fuuuuuuuck_.

“Oh, fuck.” John whined. “Oh, fuck me. Please, just fuck me, now, please.” His hips jerked and stuttered, and his body shook from the overload. Scott whined back at him, high and wordless and needy, and pushed the dun-coloured shirt up over John’s head and let John’s hands pull both the BDU shirt and undershirt off him, then his mouth was back on John’s collarbone, then trailing slickly down his pectoral, tongue caressing and stroking each millimeter of hot skin it found until he stopped at a nipple. John arched into the wet touch, whimpering as Scott circled the little nub with the very tip of his tongue, and howled in sweet shock as he bit down, taking up a goodly amount of tight skin and sinking his teeth deep into the hard muscle of John’s chest, sucking hard at the flesh. “Oh, you fuckin’ _vampire_!” He jerked and moaned, his nerves on fire. “Bloody fuck! Scott!” His hand strayed up to grip at brown strands of hair and he yanked hard, then buried his hand into that delicious mop of hair and pushed down again as that tongue flicked over his sensitive nipple. “You fuckin’ bastard!” His words finished on a breathy moan as Scott let go and dragged his tongue down his rib cage, over year old scars and hardened muscle and over the edges of the bones of his floating ribs, following those up to the dip of his sternum and then dipping down again, tracing the connection of his abdominals to his half in half out belly button. Scott took his time there, dabbing and darting his tongue in and swirling around the little nub there. John could barely restrain himself from pushing his friend’s head further down; as it was, his prick was bumping and dragging against the rough beard Scott was trying to grow and _bloody fuckin’ hell that felt something fierce._ His hips kicked up, and the head rubbed up against Scott’s jaw, leaving a damp trail of precome on the hair there, and Scott looked up at him through eyelashes that really were much too long to belong to a man...and he fuckin’ grinned. John tried to make his face work, but his brain was sparking and trying to make sure he was still breathing and what were they talking about again? Had they been talking? He wasn’t sure. He looked down and tried asking if they’d been talking.

“Fucking suck my cock already, you evil son of a bitch.”

 _Well, there’s that._ Scott’s grin turned feral and lustful, and he finally ducked his head down the rest of the way and licked a wet stripe up the inside of John’s thigh, up to his balls where he licked and rested one on his tongue, just breathing on it, and John’s really trying not to squirm too much and then his mouth closes around the testicle and holy Mary, mother of God, that was something else, that was something he’d never - “FUCK!” He barked something else, too, can’t remember, too much, because now he was humming, fucking _humming_  and then that mouth was gone and going - south. Down. Further. Oh. John’s other hand shot to Scott’s head, and he lifted both legs onto his friend’s shoulders, he knew how it worked, he’d just never really...oh! His whole body bucked and his mouth dropped open before his brain could parse the wet, wriggly tongue pressing and dabbing at his entrance. “Hnngfhhh - fuuuckin’ Jeeeeeesus hooo oh my Goooooood” and he was no longer making sense as Scott pressed a bit harder and moaned deeply, headily, and God, he was dizzy and could he do this without having an aneurysm? Could he? His heart fluttered in his chest and his heels dug into Scott’s back muscles and his fingers spasmed in his hair and a shaky broken moan pushed its way out of a chest that was much too tight and fuck, oh God, “There don’t stop Scott don’t fuckin’ stop -” That tongue pushed in deeper, past the first ring of muscle and John was coming, his cock pulsing and throbbing and it hadn’t even been touched, fuck! His vision greyed out for a while, he wasn’t sure how long, but it was long enough that when he came back to earth the come on his chest and stomach was cooling off and Scott was curled up against him like a comma, quietly rutting against his hip and kneading his hands into his chest and shoulder blade. He patted his shoulder, and Scott’s hips stopped. He looked at John and smiled.

“Good morning, love.”

“Highly doubt I was gone that long.” John took a deep breath and blinked lazily. “So. That. Was. Fucking amazing. But you...”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” Scott winced. “Still here, and still hard. Wasn’t gonna bother you, but - “

John grunted, and pushed up onto his elbows. “Shut up and find the Vaseline, you bastard. You are still fucking me.”

Scott’s face lit up in happy arousal, and he growled at John as he pushed to his feet and finally shucked himself of his last boot and his trousers and socks and pants, and shit didn’t that man look fit as fuck. John gazed at the stunning body standing over him, then was treated to the rear view as the man walked off to find John’s tube of petroleum jelly. He got to his feet and sighed deeply, suddenly very glad that he had gotten off before Scott. Firstly, because now he was loose-limbed and relaxed enough to actually have anal sex (something he’s only tried once before and boy, did it hurt!), and secondly, he could focus on his friend now without having a _distraction_. A small yelp of discovery made him smile, and Scott waved the tube over his head in victory as he sauntered back over to John, his heavy cock swinging in the air before him.

“Jesus,” John breathed, and backed up until the backs of his legs hit the bed, and then he sat, still staring at the thing that was going to be inside him soon. His mouth started watering again, and he reached out to take hold of it again. Scott backed away with a hiss.

“No, hell no, the moment you touch me, I’ll fucking come. No. I’m letting myself calm down before we do anything, shit.” Scott pushed at John’s shoulders lovingly. “Lay back, John.”

John smirked, and did as he was asked. “Did you lock the door? Tell me you locked the door?”

“Oh, SHIT!” Scott shot up and ran over to the door, flicking the simple chain lock and then ran back over to lay next to John. “I forgot.”

“You are so lucky people didn’t just fuckin’ pop their heads in while I was on my knees sucking your prick.” John’s smirk turned into a warm smile as Scott’s fingers fluttered up and down his torso, picking out the spots that bruises were starting to form from his teeth. “Don’t worry. It’s fine, I don’t mind a bit of rough handling during sex.”

Scott’s worried face smoothed into one much calmer and almost wistful. “Thank God, because I wasn’t sure, you know? I mean, there’s things, things that I like, and -”

“Scott. Shut the fuck up.” John laughed. “You think you are some sort of deviant because you like to get deepthroated and call someone dirty names in bed? Fuck. That’s nothing.”

“Heh.” Scott joined into the laughter. “You’re right. I guess. Um.” He ran hesitant fingers down John’s inner thigh and back up, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Already, John could feel the stirrings of interest deep in his gut, something he missed at the beginning of the firestorm before because of the sheer suddeness of the whole thing. He smiled up at Scott, and spread his legs a bit, hooking his right leg up and over the other man’s hip and hitched the other higher so that Scott had a clear shot at what he’d been playing with only minutes before, or was it longer than that? John wasn’t sure, but what he did know is that the pleasure started curling again in his loins as soon as Scott’s finger found its target and pressed lightly. Shockingly, he was still a tiny bit loose, and the tip of his index finger sank in, making both men gasp out in pleasure.

“Holy hell, John, you are...God. Shit. You're still a bit loose.” John smiled and shifted his hips just a bit, just a little slide, and that finger slid further in, up to the second knuckle, with only a small amount of ouch.

“Lube, Scott, get the damned jelly and fuckin - oooooh yeah.” John moaned and rolled his shoulders as his friend pulled his finger out and squeezed out a couple inches of jelly onto the flats of his fingers. “Don’t be stingy, and don’t be gentle.”

Scott’s eyes flicked up, locking John with a hard stare. “Are you sure?”

John huffed out a laugh. “I don’t have to go out on a fuckin’ patrol when I’m done here, and I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you when I can think again.”

The Marine’s eyes widened, and he dragged in a hard breath. “Bloody ruddy hell, John. You are impossible.”

John reached out a hand and dragged his index finger over Scott’s bottom lip. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin this mouth.” Scott shuddered, and his hand trailed back down to John’s hole and stroked, spreading the extra jelly from there to the back of his balls. “Oh, fuck yes. Damn it.” He groaned and rolled his hips up. “Want you IN me, Scott.”

“Yes. Yes, just...Jesus, John, you impatient fuck!” Scott circled with his middle finger, and then pushed, and John’s breath pushed out on a broken moan as his body opened almost immediately to accommodate both of Scott’s large fingers.

“Oh, that - yes, fuck, gorgeous, yes, _Scooooooott_ , more!” John started to squirm, his hips rolling and pushing against that glorious hand between his legs and Jesus, this was the best thing to happen to him, God, he needed _more_. A third finger joined the first two, and after a bit of wiggling and shifting on both of their parts, Scott was able to crook his fingers just right and - “Hggnnnnnnnnn- _FUCK_ that right there, yes, fuck!” - hit his prostate dead on, something few people could ever do, and wow did that feel like a fuckin’ lightning storm in his gut! His half hard prick really started to take interest now, and so was everything else. “Now. Damn it, Scott, now, you’ve got to be ready now, please tell me you are ready!”

Scott bit his collarbone hard, and his moan warbled in his throat. The man panted into his bite, and sucked hard on the skin over the bone. “Still, stay still. Let me.” His hand moved faster, he was fucking John with his fingers, and the sensations were driving John batshit. He panted and writhed on the scratchy covers, reaching behind his head with one hand to grip the metal railing of the head of the bed. “Stay still.”

“Can’t fuckin’ do that...ooooh, keep doing that!”

Scott laughed into his shoulder. “Do you want me to finger fuck you, or do you want my cock?”

John’s head dropped back to the pillow. “Hahhh - _shit_ \- can’t have both?” He could barely get enough air, and those fuckin’ fingers...

“No, love, just...hold on.” Scott shifted to his knees, grabbed the tube again and flicked it open, squeezing out a good amount and stuck it between his knees so he could grease up his free hand. The fingers inside John scissored and spread, and John choked out a guttural sound that was half shout, half groan, and all blazing arousal. The tube got tossed somewhere at the foot of the bed and then Scott was hissing out a staccato beat as he smoothed the jelly onto his prick. All John wanted to do was reach out and do it for him, God, he wanted to, but then Scott’s hands were on his thighs and spreading his legs.

“Hips,” he muttered.

“What?” Scott looked up at him, his face flushed and pupils blown in lust once more.

John shook his head, and moved his left leg from Scott’s shoulder down to his hip. “You’re too tall, I’ve got short legs, I’m not getting bent in half for this...”

Scott laughed again. “Oh, hell yeah...okay, yes.” He shifted John’s other leg onto his hip too, then slid his knees under his arse and hips. “How about this?”

John was now at an angle, his shoulder blades pressing into the firm mattress and his back tilted, and he was basically in Scott’s lap, his friend’s cock pressed up against his balls and perineum. His head bounced against the pillow. “Oh, this. Yes. Like this angle. Like it a lot.” He leaned up on his elbows, and ground his hips down as much as he could, making Scott moan desperately. “Stop talking, start fucking.”

“Motherfucking _yes, SIR_.” Scott pulled back a bit, lined himself up, and leaned forward to brace his hands against the bed. “Ready?”

“Ready? I’ve been fuckin’ _GAGGING_ for this since we started, get IN ME NOW.” John rolled his hips up, and just like that, Scott slipped in, just an inch or so, but it was enough to drag ragged groans from both men. “Holy.”

“Yeah.”

“Now, fucker.”

“Yeah.” Scott breathed, braced, and pushed forward, staring at John’s sweaty face to gather some insight as to his condition as he sank all the way in. John’s body accepted the intrusion easily, opening and relaxing. He let out a high hiss of pleasure as John panted in his face, gasping and damn near sobbing, voice breaking on oaths and his friend’s name and half voiced consonants of encouragement. Finally, the forward motion stopped as his hips rested on the soft skin of John’s arse, and he let out the breath he’d been holding.

John stared up at his friend, his face wide open and full of wonder and lust and sheer overwhelming emotion. “Oh.” He took a breath, which shifted the heavy thickness that filled him, and his brain broke. “Ah! Oh. Shi - oh. Guh. _Gaaaah_ fuck.” He closed his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Scott’s voice sounded worried, so he opened them again.

“Moment. Need - a moment. Fine. Brilliant, I’m good. Just. A moment.” He tried another breath, and this one was easier. His mind was coming to terms with the _huge cock_ in his arse and yes, it was there, and it was Scott’s, and this is what he wanted, and will he just fuckin’ _fuck him already_? “Okay. Moment over. Move.”

Scott jerked his head in a nod, and then pulled back, sliding out about halfway, dragging a moan out of John, and then thrust back in, slowly, _too slow, damn it_ , but it was alright because he was moving, and oh God, it felt _sooooo good_. John was still panting, but he was now in control, and he dug his heels into the small of Scott’s back and moved with him, rolling and rocking his hips and wrapping his hands around the man’s wrists and gripping hard, giving him something to push against. His eyes closed again, and his brain shut off, and it was _fucking brilliant!_ They moved together for a while, just letting the natural rhythm of their bodies guide their hips. It was almost relaxing, except that it was sex, and sex wasn’t supposed to be relaxing, and John suddenly rocked his hips hard at the moment Scott was pushing in, and their hips met much harder than before, jolting John back on the bed and making Scott’s eyes snap open in surprise.

“Fuck!”

“Oooooh,” John moaned, “yes, that, fuckin’ that. Gorgeous.” His torso trembled, and he looked Scott straight in the eye. “Okay. We are golden. Fuck me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hard. Yes. Fuck me hard.”

Scott snapped his hips forward, and John gasped. “Yes!”

“Yeah? You want this?” The growl in his voice went straight to John’s cock.

“Hell yes, give it to me. Give me your fuckin’ prick, fuck me, make me want it, make me fuckin’ beg for it - “

Then John’s hands were trapped above his head with one large hand as Scott leaned over him and dropped his head to his shoulder, growling low and dangerous in his ear. “You fuckin’ slut. You want my cock? You’re gonna get it.” He sounded more confident, now, and he ground his hips roughly against John, pushing his prick in even further and rubbing his lower stomach against John’s aching prick. “But only if you say it.”

John’s eyes widened as a spike of lust surged through his brain and shut it all down again. He grinned. “Say what?”

“You know what, you little whore.”

Oh, God, this was not good. John couldn’t believe that this was doing the trick, but his cock throbbed against Scott’s belly and his hole clenched around Scott’s cock, and Mother of God, he was a little slut, wasn’t he? He chuckled lightly and batted his eyelashes. “Pretty please?”

“Oh, fuck you, Watson.” And that was the last thing he said before his hand tightened, and his hips jerked forward, and John was lost in a sea of pleasure as Scott delivered on his promise to fuck him. Each graze over his prostate lit up his nerves, each thrust filling him completely, each press of Scott’s stomach on his prick just made him sob and gasp and moan and it was just insane. Perfect insanity.

He loved it.

The scent of war was around him again, born on the sweat glistening on Scott’s forehead and neck and bare chest, and John lifted his head to lick at the slick skin over the man’s pulse point, making him hiss above him, rhythm stuttering as John latched on with sharp teeth and soft tongue. He couldn’t stay like that for very long because of the position, but then Scott let go of his wrists and pulled out. John’s loud protest at the absence of him didn’t last long as the marine grabbed him by the hips and twisted him over, roughly pushing his chest into the covers and pushing back in. _Oh! GOD. FUCK._ This position was so much better, shit, and John bit the pillow to stifle the shout as Scott really fucked him, gripping his hips so tight that the skin around his fingers whitened. Then one hand left and ran up his spine, all the way to the nape of his neck, and his shout turned into a scream he couldn’t mute as fingernails scored down the bunched muscles and tight sweat-slicked skin. His whole universe tilted on its head and his brain shivered as those nails dug into his hip once more, and he bit his own arm to quiet his cries of sweet abandon. Oh, this was even better than he thought! And then Scott’s hips stuttered for a whole different reason as his voice broke on John’s name. He lay over John’s back, over the raw red streaks burning with sensation (now burning from the salty sweat mingling) and pushed John’s head forward into the pillow so he could sink his teeth into the nape of his neck and _Jesus fucking Christ Almighty_ John could feel his prick pulsing in his arse, filling him with - fuck! The hand he wasn’t currently biting flew to his own cock and he only had to stroke his hand over the shaft a couple of times before he whited out completely, supernovas and nukes and FAEs going off in his vision as his body contracted hard around Scott and jerked like a live wire with his second orgasm and he sank into the black hole of his bloody salvation.

  
  
  
  


“Okay, you have a special kind of crazy, John.” Scott took a drag of his cigarette and squinted at the man currently juggling a water bottle and three MREs in his hands. The kittens were going ballistic because lunchtime had been missed because apparently their human decided that getting thoroughly shagged took precedence over their sustenance. Only Sarge was calm, pushing his baby claws lovingly into Scott’s scalp. “The kind of crazy that I love. I love your brand of crazy. You should bottle it and sell it.”

John snorted. “Ha, yeah, just because I’m wandering ‘round naked as the day I was born, you fucker, because my hips are bruised. They are actually bruised, and I don’t feel like pulling trousers on right now.” Billie chose to climb up his leg, and he hissed in pain. “Fuckin’ cat, get off my leg or you are going home in cargo bin.” Scott laughed around his fag, and John smiled. “Yeah, maybe I should throw on my trousers.”

“Maybe.”

Sarge looked up from his massage. “Myeah.”

“No one asked you, furball.” Scott and John grunted at the same time, and Sarge muttered in his little kitten way and launched off the bed to attack a cricket.

 


End file.
